Chapter 11 #2
Her eyes light up like I just performed magic. "Can we make them now? For real?"
"We can make a whole batch." I slide the cookie sheet over. "But you're in charge of the math. Deal?"
"Deal!"
We measure flour together—Emma's movements precise but messy, the way she approaches everything important. Chocolate chips tumble in, some making detours directly to her mouth. My laughter feels lighter than it has all week.
She looks up after spilling a handful of chips, grinning guiltily, and I can't help myself—I tap her nose with a dab of cookie dough.
"Hey!" She giggles, retaliating with a flour dusting on my arm.
"Oh, that's how it's gonna be?"
"Yeah!" She's laughing so hard she snorts.
By the time Adam comes inside—boots muddy, brushing debris from his shoulders—the air smells like butter and chocolate and something even sweeter underneath.
Something like home.
"Smells amazing in here," he says, voice rough from the cold. "You two solving the world's problems with cookies?"
"Did you know your daughter can count by sixes now?" I tease, winking at Emma.
She sticks her tongue out at me, but her smile is huge. "June helped. Math's way easier when there's chocolate."
Adam's eyes meet mine over Emma's head—warm and grateful.
Thank you, they say.
I smile and turn back to the cookies.
Later, after dinner and dishes and the chaotic negotiation that is Emma's bedtime routine, I sit beside her bed with Charlotte's Web open in my lap. Her eyelids flutter with each page turn, lamplight casting soft shadows across her face.
It's become our routine—bath, pajamas, stories. Something soft and safe, even as the world outside turns sharp and complicated.
Mid-chapter, she draws a sleepy breath. "June?"
"Yeah, sweetheart?"
Her voice is drowsy but certain. "I wish you really could stay forever."
My chest pinches. I smooth the hair back from her forehead. "I'm just next door, remember? You'll still see me all the time."
"It's not the same." Her eyes crack open, serious. "I like having you here. In our house."
Something in my throat goes tight.
"I like being here too," I whisper.
"Promise you won't leave?"
I can't make that promise. Not with Sarah circling, lawyers building cases, everything so fragile and uncertain.
But I lean down and kiss her forehead anyway. "I promise I'm not going anywhere without saying goodbye first. Okay?"
She considers this, then nods—satisfied enough to let her eyes drift closed.
I finish the chapter in a whisper, wait until her breathing evens out completely, then close the book and slip from the room.
Adam's waiting in the hallway, leaning against the wall. He must have heard everything. His face is gentle, eyes bright with something warm and uncertain.
"She loves you," he murmurs.
My throat tightens. The truth spills out before I can stop it. "I love her too."
"I know." His voice is so quiet I almost miss it. "I can tell."
For a breath, the hallway stills around us. Everything I want is right here—pressed into this narrow space between bedroom doors, between everything we're allowed and everything we're risking.
"Adam—"
He closes the distance, cups my face in both hands. "I know what you're going to say. That this is complicated. That Sarah's going to use it against us. That maybe you should go back to your house even if it's freezing."
"I—"
"Don't." His thumb brushes my cheekbone. "Not tonight. Just let this be enough."
He kisses me—slow, tender, achingly sweet. Nothing urgent or desperate.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine.
"You belong here," he whispers. "With us. I don't care what Sarah says or what her lawyer threatens. You belong here."
I want to believe him so badly it hurts.
"What if she takes Emma away because of me?"
"She won't." Fierce now, certain. "Michael says the claim is weak. We're doing everything right. And even if she tries—I will fight like hell to keep my daughter."
His eyes blaze. "You've been more of a mother to Emma in the short time you've been in our lives than Sarah ever has. You're not some temporary guest, June. You're mine. You and Emma—this is what I want. What I've wanted since you flew into me with cupcakes."
A startled laugh bursts out of me, half sob. "That was one time."
"It was endearing." He grins, then sobers. "I'm falling in love with you. I think I've been falling since the beginning. And I need you to know that—before whatever happens next."
The world tilts.
I'm falling in love with you.
"I—" My voice cracks. "I'm falling too. So hard it terrifies me."
"Good." He kisses me again, deeper. "Be terrified with me."
I laugh against his mouth, tears hot on my cheeks.
"Okay," I whisper. "Okay."
We stand there in the hallway—wrapped around each other, hearts pounding, the future uncertain but this, at least, solid and real.
Whatever comes next, we face it together.
***
Later that night, Adam and I are side by side on the couch, the TV flickering unwatched in front of us. Emma's been asleep for hours.
For days we've been restrained—hushed laughter, soft touches, keeping a respectful distance even when we're in the same bed burning for each other.
But tonight something different simmers between us.
Adam glances at me, leg bouncing with nervous energy. "We've been holding back for days."
I bite back a smile. "Feels like an eternity."
He huffs out a laugh—then in one fluid motion, I'm back in his lap.
My gasp is swallowed by his mouth on mine—urgent, desperate, like all the patience of the last week just burned away. His hands find my waist, sliding beneath my shirt. His touch is rough, calloused and warm.
"God," he groans against my neck. "I've wanted to touch you like this for so long. Every night, lying next to you, trying not to—"
"Then don't try not to," I breathe.
His hands move up my ribs, thumbs brushing the underside of my bra. I arch into him and he makes a sound low in his throat that sends heat pooling through me.
He unhooks my bra with practiced ease—one-handed, barely breaking the kiss—and I almost laugh at how smooth that was before his palms cup my breasts and all thought disappears.
"June." His mouth travels down my neck. "Tell me if this is too much."
"It's not enough," I gasp.
His hands are everywhere—greedy, trembling, reverent. When he pops the button on my jeans, I don't stop him. I don't want to.
He slides his hand beneath my underwear and finds me wet and wanting, aching for him. His groan vibrates through his chest into mine.
"Jesus, June..." His eyes meet mine, dark and hungry and still somehow asking permission. "Tell me what you like."
Words fail. I show him instead—in the way I move against his hand, the way I clutch his shoulders, the way my breath stutters when he touches me just there.
He's hard beneath me, straining against his jeans, and when I reach down and cup him through the denim, he shudders, hips jerking up into my palm.
"If we keep going—" His jaw clenches.
I know what he means. We're so close. One more decision and we cross that line.
And I want to. God, I want to.
But—
"I need to tell you something," I whisper.
He stills immediately, removing his hand and holding me steady. His pulse jumps beneath my fingers. "Okay..."
I take a shaky breath. "I've never... I'm a virgin."
The words come out so quiet I almost hope he didn't hear.
But he did.
His expression shifts—surprise flickering across his face, then something softer. Wonder, maybe. Or admiration.
"You're serious."
I nod, everything in me trembling. "I know it's probably weird at my age—"
"June." He cups my face, gaze unwavering. "It's not weird. There's nothing weird about it." His thumb brushes my cheek. "If anything, I'm honored you trust me with this."
Something releases in my chest.
"But you—" I start, and he cuts me off gently.
"Hey. You set the pace. Always. I'm not disappointed or frustrated or whatever you're worried I'm feeling right now." His voice drops lower. "I just want you to feel safe. To feel wanted. And when you're ready—whenever that is—I'll be right here."
Relief floods through me, mixed with gratitude and something that feels dangerously close to love.
"What if my pace is faster than I'm ready for?" I ask, half-joking, half-serious.
A smile tugs at his mouth—sweet and a little wicked. "Then we figure it out together. No pressure. No expectations."